My Awesome, Funny, Charismatic, Adorable Werewolf
by MichangelO
Summary: Jacob Black, resident of Surrey since he was born eleven years ago, is Harry Potter's best friend. "He's like a brother to me," said Jacob, conviction already faltering. "Jake," he said to himself, "are you sure he's just a brother to ya?" Slash Xover.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Harry Potter series. I do not own Jacob Black from Twilight.

**Leaving**

It was usual at that time of year for dark, fluffy clouds to accumulate and light rain to drizzle. It was not heavy, but it was enough that children were yelled back inside by concerned mothers, and hanged clothes were put into laundry baskets and carried indoors.

The drizzle, in itself, was not harmful to one Jacob Black, who was lying on a park bench and watching the sky as it rumbled softly, using both his hands to pilllow his short, cropped-haired head. He waited for someone as he toyed with the idea of running away and leaving his family for good. It was a bad idea, he admitted, for him to think of doing so, and for him to be out here, waiting, when doing he was, simply put, endangering the person he was about to meet. That's his life, anyway--centered around bad ideas and failed decisions. But what could he do? It was this person who asked to meet him here by a bench in Surrey Park. _"It's something important," _the person told him, and he was not one who denied this person of a request.

_They're unfit to be guardians, _Jacob thought bitterly, everytime it came up. What they did was unfair and,

"Jacob," a quiet voice came from behind him. Jacob closed his eyes and sat up, burying his face in his wet, rough hands. He didn't want to see what prominent damage was there to see this time.

"Harry," Jacob muttered, "how are you?". He didn't look up when Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and sat down next to him. He could feel Harry's cool skin against his. When he finally couldn't bear it anymore, he peeked out of his hands.

Harry was smiling.

He let his hand drop and gazed at Harry's smile. It was all that mattered at times--Harry's easy, reassuring smile. Sometimes he feels selfish whenever he wishes for it from Harry, when he knows very well that it's hard to make Harry do so. But this time, Harry's smile was big and sincere, and at once Jacob lit up.

"You're smiling," said Jacob, grinning himself.

"Yup," Harry replied, looking at the gloomy sky like it was a perfect, sunny day. Jacob on the other hand, did not have to reminisce, when Harry was beside him, beaming like the sun.

Harry's sight dropped and settled on Jacob's grinning face. His own face scrunched up into an amused frown.

"Stop that," Harry said, but Jacob's grin only got wider.

"Stop what?" he said cheerfully.

"Being all smile-y," Harry exclaimed, not serious.

"Can't help it. Sorry, " Jacob said, and pulled Harry in his arms, chest to back.

"Why _not_?" Harry whined affectionately.

"'Coz I'm here. With you, " he pointed out, "and you're smiling. I rarely see that." His arms tightened protectively around Harry, and Harry leaned into Jacob's warmth. Cool weather and rain ignored, Jacob was _always_ warm. "You should really think about leaving them."

Harry sighed. As always when they met, conversation with Jacob almost always slowly leaned towards the 'let's leave together and be brothers' talk. He would take it all calmly, and when Jacob was done, he would use rational, and sometimes, family-related excuses until eventually Jacob backs down.

"Jacob... I don't want to talk about it this time. Just let me be with you for the last time," Harry said sadly.

Jacob tried, unsuccessful, to smooth Harry's hair. "It's okay, Harry, it's okay. I won't bring it up again. I'm sorry."

"I'm fine," Harry gasped, "Happens all the time."

Jacob rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder and breathed. Harry's scent was comforting, soothing.

Jacob ran through the words, and then his head popped out of Harry's shoulder. "Last time?" he asked, worried.

Harry closed his eyes and nodded only a fraction.

Jacob, at once, stood up, jerking Harry off him.

"What do you mean? Is it them? They're asking us _not_ to meet? How could they!?" he yelled too fast for Harry to comprehend, but he was already calming Jacob down.

"No Jacob, it's not them," he assured, and Jacob's heavy breathing started to slow. His hands, though, were still clenched into tight fists.

"Why? Why the last time?" he demanded. Harry looked downcast, but spoke immediately.

"I'm leaving. To a boarding school. I...can't say where."

Jacob stood there for a moment, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. And then, he shook his head wildly, beads of water flying out of his hair.

"You can't. I won't let you."

Harry sighed again. He did plenty of that with Jacob. "Jake, it's not going to be that hard for me..."

"Yeah, but did you ever ask yourself if it will be hard for me?"

Harry was taken aback by the bold statement. It'll be hard for Jacob? How? Why?

"Why?" Harry asked, truly confused.

"Harry, you've been my best friend for seven years! Isn't that worth something?" Jacob closed in and took Harry in his arms again. Harry heard a sniffle, adn then smiled a faint smile.

"You're crying," Harry pointed out.

"I'm not _crying_. I'm just...yeah, I'm crying. Crap, Harry! You're leaving! Is there any reason for me _not_ to cry?" he chuckled, and his arms got tighter.

"Jake--can't--breathe!" Harry gasped, and Jacob instantly let go, apologetic. His eyes were teary but he's smiling. Harry's breath hitched--he'd never seen this Jacob before.

"At least you'll be safe from them. Are you gonna be safe there? What school is it? Where is it found? Can I visit some time?" Jacob asked a flurry of questions enthusiastically. Harry smiled again. He adored Jacob when he's in his usual warm, charismatic, jibbery side. He threw the guy another hug.

"I'm just gonna miss you, Jake. I promise I'll write to you."

"Alright, Harry. I'll miss you, too."

A/N: A piece here just to jupm start things. Hopefully it hooks attention. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Harry belongs to Rowling, Jake to Meyer.

**TO:**

_Mistress Hikari_ - Thank you~! I'l try my best.

_The Night Air_ - They've been friends since they were four to five years old. The timeline, I have to admit, is a bit defective at the moment, so sorry. I didn't find it that important. I also took your advice and changed the summary. It was definitely lame, thanks.

_BRM_ - I accept all tackle hugs~! Glad you're interested!

_nutymuffin_ - Good! Attention is what I need right now! Thanks!

_krissy is bored_ - I agree, I can't find any Harry/Jacob fics too, which totally pissed me off, and in extension, my friends, so they urged me to write one. This was experimental so I never really thought it will garner attention, so thanks so much.

_angelkit_ - They are both eleven years old, I believe, and Harry gets his letter that day, meaning the Dursleys never left when the persistent letters piled in, and also meaning that Hagrid visited them. Quite a shock for Petunia, that one, when a big ol' half-giant tried to squeeze through her doorway.

_MeredithLilyPotter - _Yeah, I love the pairing too! I was thinking, 'Why hasn't anyone made this kind of crossover?' and so I thought, well my friends thought for me, really, that I should try and make one. Thanks!

SO here it is, I guess!

**Apple Tree**

_The only place that didn't seem to be occupied in the kindergarten playground that first day of school was the hazardous slide, the one where metal shards jutted from the ride down. Of course nobody would use it, but no parent had really seen the whole backyard, so the owner got away with that one._

_The little russet skinned boy ambled towards it, sitting on its third steel step and sighing. He wasn't thinking of sliding on it either--he might be four but he's not that stupid. He wasn't old enough that he didn't cry and grip ol' Billy's leg like a lifeline when school started, though. When he got inside, however, he mustered all of his courage as he took those hesitant steps into the classroom with his Tom n' Jerry lunchbox. _

_The room was noisy. Every kid seemed to be throwing tantrums and wailing for their mommies and daddies, or random nanny names like Mary or McPhee, all except one puny little boy, a bundle of disheveled hair in a sea of chaotic whining. Little Jake focused on the boy, for he was the only one not giving him a four-year old migrane at the moment. He was like a small skinny kitten, abandoned by its mother and left to fend for itself._

_He was pulled out of his regardfulness when the two mentors--or in this case, wranglers of this animal house-- called an early recess out of desperation. The kids, sensing their victory, flowed out of the room like stalllions and mares in a horserace. Jacob didn't take long to process what had happened and ran out to the backyard playground as well._

_Jacob's gaze hovered boredly over the vast--as vast a backyard could be for a four year old--playground, until it stopped under the apple tree, where the small boy from earlier was flanked by three big boys--unusually large and plump like a pumpkin for someone of age the same as his. He had quite a view from where he was, an he instantly took note that the boy had his eyes squinted and his body was crouched low to the ground, his arms covering his head protectively. Silent tears were running down his cheeks while one kid kicked sand onto his already dirty shoes, another held him still, and the last, the biggest, and certainly the most grotesque, decked his head with an arm, like a chubby hammer._

_Jacob recalled what his sister Rachel told him. 'Don't let anyone bully you, now, and remember to be help anyone who needs it!'_

_He jerked away from the slide, like a wolf instinct-driven towards its prey, his mind playing out the constant bickering his sisters Rebecca and Rachel permanently drilled into his brain. He sprinted the whole distance in what surprised him was only five steps. He was angry--no, seething--that such big bullies have the nerve to pick on the defenseless little kid._

_"Stop it!" he yelled as he snagged the beefy arm midway towards the onyx haired kid._

_"Oi, look a' this guys," the biggest mockingly exclaimed, "Hawee has wee lil' hewo!" The laughter that followed from the two goons was rehearsed and synchronized. One of them spoke up, "He's twying to op-opo-opop- he's twying to stop you, Dudley!"_

_"Weave him awone!" Jake demanded, his wrist tightening around the fat boy's--Dudley's--sausage arm._

_--_

_Ten minutes later found Jacob in an unidentifiable heap under the apple tree. The bullies had escaped towards the other kids, presumably to establish an alibi._

_Little Harry was currently kneeling in front of a beat up Jake, shaking him conscious._

_"Wha..hurgh..what..happened?" Jacob coughed out._

_Harry was was sobbing, tears escaping the hands hias face was currently buried in. He was continuously hiccuping the words "I'm sowwy"._

_Jacob reached out a shaky finger and took some tears of Harry's cheek. Harry peeked out of his hands and saw that Jacob was grinning._

_"Hey, it's alright. Don't cry."_

_--_

**A/N: **Sorry, it's the best I could come up with right now. As I said this was only experimental, and I don't have a plot for it : /. I got food poisoning and couldn't go to school today, so I guess I had more time, but you know me, I find it hard to finish any of my stories. R&R!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** A quick answer to the question, "Why is Mich so damn slow in posting?" Well, here's the thing, my father was a turtle and my mother's a sea snail, we live in a house with countless shards of Sherry bottles on the floor, making it hard not to get hurt, and also, I'm a dyslexic pea-brain with amputated legs. Sorry this took so long! (No offence to those who are dyslexic, or marine gastropods)

**A Message that Took Three Years to Arrive**

"Hey Rach, what's for dinner?" I yelled up the stairs just as I entered the front door to my house. It was a dingy little suburban house, strikingly similar to, like, the last thousand houses next to it, picket fence and lawn gnomes and all that shit. It was one of the numerous things about Surrey was fed up with: the architects seemed lacking of any creativity. You'd think that with Rachel born with mom's sensibility, she would tear down the fence and pound the ceramic gnomes into powder, but no, Rebecca inherited that bit of mom, and she's in Hawaii with a husband and a mortgage—not a very sensible girl, either, so maybe I was the one who got it. But with this current dull life I'm going through, I'm beginning to think that the sensible thing to do will be to jump in front of a speeding convertible. Or a bus. Whichever's less painful. Definitely something that would finish me and not turn up like dad.

"I don't need to get around making it! Why don't you help dad out with the damn tree?" she shouted back, in a tone I read as doing-something-important-and-distressing. I shrugged and thought about why she didn't need to cook, throwing my wet-from-melted-snow schoolbag onto the couch. Bad idea, since Rachel was so obsessive with keeping the furniture neat, but what the hell? It's the last day of school for the holidays and I'm so tired. But I still had to help my impaired dad, so I dragged my feet towards the dining room-living room intersection where the dad was, and also where the tree was filled with decorations halfway to bottom.

"Son, finish up here, quick! The game's already on and Harry's coming any second!" he pleaded in a giddy pitch he didn't bother to hide. It was Harry Clearwater after all, and a football game plus Harry always did make him ecstatic. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Also, the man's name made me wince.

"Yeah, yeah. Hey dad, could you yell at Rachel to get dinner started? I didn't get lunch 'coz I had to finish a damn History project." He waved me off and wheeled swiftly towards the living room, which from here I noticed now was filled with food that could kill a diabetic. It wasn't really a project—Quil merely introduced me to smoking last week, and I had to ditch lunch with him and Embry to savor the goods. It wasn't like I was instantly hooked with smoking. I liked to acknowledge it as my body going through an adolescent rebellious phase. Sure it made me cough so much I think my windpipe burst, but the smoke made me feel somehow real, existing. You don't have a say either, as to if I'm too young, because I just turned fifteen and I can do whatever the hell it is I want.

Just as I was throwing the last bits of decorations into the tree, the doorbell rang and a knock on the door followed. Charlie sped towards it, amazing how dexterous he was on that wheelchair, narrowly avoiding two vases and a lamp, opening the door to reveal one Harry Clearwater clutching four paper bags, his special fish-and-chips no doubt, one Leah Clearwater, who managed to not look like sour, heartbroken shit, what with all the news with the Sam and Emily hook-up, and one beaming Seth Clearwater, holding onto one point five liters of Coke bottles, waving at me with enthusiasm.

The kid annoys me to death. I'm not in a position to call him 'kid', since he's only a year younger than me, but he still acts that way. In some ways though, he's surprisingly more mature. He's actually the one who pulled me out of my state three years ago when he left and never came back.

"Jake! How's the tree?" he asked sunnily, placing the Coke onto the table in the living room, next to the pile of junk food, and then practically skipped towards me.

I was on a stool and had just placed the gold star atop the tree when I answered, "Just done, I guess."

He grinned again and said, "Guess what your sister and mine has in store of us. Go ahead. Guess."

I rolled my eyes and smiled down at him coming off the stool and feigning boredom. "Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll be against it."

It was like his whole body was frowning when I replied that. "Aw, c'mon! We're going to have fun--doing whatever it is they're gonna do! Please? Pleeease?" he begged. It was endearing, like watching a kid doing puppy-dog eyes for a cookie from the jar, and I just had to let it go. What harm could two girls do?

--

A lot, to be frank. Apparently, there was a hidden lake just a few blocks south of my house, through some underbush, that had frozen perfectly into this ice skating wonderland. Perfect, just perfect. Everyone I know was there: Quil and Embry, Jared and Paul, Bella, who was now chatting with Rachel, and to Leah's grudging disappointment, Sam and Emily, hand in hand, skating live two bloody love birds. Embry was waving me over, and I hesitated, seeing that I had a Seth Clearwater attached to me. I went there anyway, and sure enough, Seth followed.

I wasn't adept at skating. This proved to be monumentally true when I stepped on the ice. I was ignorant, because I haven't exactly gone skating before, and I thought, hey, since I'm still wearing my shoes, I get a bit of traction, right? Wrong. I slipped, and landed on my ass, hard, and then slid a few meters. At least I got to Quil and Embry, but they were laughing quite hysterically at the moment, so I really didn't feel up for any warm greetings.

"Merry Christmas, man. Really now, Jake, I could skate in golf kleets and not fall over. What was that?" Quil guffawed, and Embry not-so-inconspicuously slung an arm around Quil's waist.

"Am I missing something?" I said.

"Yeah well...We have to tell you something," Embry piped in a weak voice.

"Don't worry, I know. I approve. I'm not gonna turn into some stereotypic psycho who'll bash you 'til graduation," I said reassuringly. Embry's face lit up, while Quil's face crumpled into shock.

"How did you know?" he demanded, not too forcefully, like asking how someone knew a particular trivia question.

"Snogging in your pick-up isn't exactly that private, Quil. And when Embry accidentally elbowed the horn, anyone would've noticed. You're to thank God because I was the only one there."

"Oh! Well, then...That certainly might've been awkward...and traumatizing on your part." he said apologetically. Embry just shrugged and planted a quick peck on Quil's lips. I shrugged as well when they looked at me for a reaction.

"Doesn't bother me," I replied, and it seemed to me that Seth didn't bother, either. They went off and started skating merrily across the ice. Seth firmly guided me back out of the lake, towards a nearby bench, where Rachel had laid out the new skates she's bought me as a gift. It seemed she was getting busy breaking in the skates for use, and she was just rubbing her feet earlier from the ten-day-minimum skate breaking.

I wore them, and had quickly found out that they were now stretchy and wearable--Rachel's efforts had not gone to waste. Seth waited eagerly until I tied the other shoelace on, and then practically hauled me back. It was awkward to be moving without actually walking, and I managed to stay upright this time, Seth being ecstatic at how fast I pick things like balance and movement up so quickly. I was only mimicking him, after all, and for that I thanked him, and he happily welcomed it. His hand never really left mine when I said I'm okay to go alone.

Just then, a thing, a snowy white owl, at least I think it's an owl, collided with Seth's face, effectively knocking the boy down on his butt. The owl circled my head a few times before dropping something in front of me.

I looked at it warily, the owl I mean, until it flew off into the distance, which then my gaze turned to the package. I was sure it was a package because it most definitely looked like one, brown paper wrapping, green twine. I picked it up, inadvertently causing me to ignore a hurt Seth, and looked at a card attached to it. Unusually enough, the christmas image in the card was moving.

**_Jake,_**

_We need to talk. Grab the cup inside and say 'Portus'._

**_H._**

**A/N: **That's it, really. Another cliff. Anyhow, so, you've noticed three years have gone by. His first encounter after three years will happen in the next chapter, and also as to why H never came back until then.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'm sorry I don't post as much. And I'm sorry I don't post as long.

I performed in an elementary school play once. I was eight-years old at the time, and the play the board of directors decided on was a very elaborate portrayal of Peter Pan. Of course, this sick and twisted world of mine decided that I was to be Peter. And since it just had to be elaborate and true to the book, I got to fly. I was all harnessed and three kids pulled me up so that I could sweep above the audience, singing.

That was the very same feeling I was experiencing when I said 'Portus' as I grasped the cup. Anyone with a sane, rational mind would've asked questions, but knowing me, and I'm sure the cup's sender does, I'm not one to think before I act. So as I said, it was like being in a harness for one of those acrobatic fightscenes in movies, only with the added part where the it was attached to a merry-go-round going crazy.

I felt this lurching urge to dump my dinner two days ago out from my stomach onto the soft surface I just landed on. It was weird when, despite the similar conditions of snowy grass and cold air, the place felt really unfamiliar. I looked around, a bit shaken, to see where I was. It was a meadow, not quite natural-looking, more like a bulldozer made it. I was by the edge, looking through a patch of greenery, light shining through the holes.

The light blared and I immediately covered my eyes. What the hell? I doubt I've gone very far from Rach and the others, so the light couldn't have changed that drastically.

I was wrong.

The sky in over the meadow was perfectly clear, although the meadow was clearly experiencing winter. It was covered with dead plants, and that was covered with fluffy frozen rain, so yeah, it was winter. It was bigger than I thought, especially when the white owl that sent me the package flew along it's circumference. If that was the case, then Rach and the others weren't very far from here.

"Ow! Jake, where did you go?" said the gangly voice of Seth. He chose to go through the bush instead of around it. Figures. I didn't notice him a while ago. It quickly clicked into place though that he was holding my hand when I touched the cup and said the word.

"I'm here," I said exasperatedly. Dealing with Seth for three years can exasperate you. "Where were you?" I waved him over as I scanned the clearing, and soon he was beside me. He was really warm.

He spoke in a hurt tone. "You were on top of me. Where are we?" Seth suddenly asked warily. I didn't know if he was shivering of the cold wind beating at us or trembling in anxiety.

Then, something moved. I found myself daft for not noticing that big boulder before. That big boulder that stood up and motioned the owl over. It swooped down without flaw, gracefully landing onto the person's reaching arm. The other arm was lifted and the bird was stroked. Seth's hands tightened around my arm when he saw what I saw. The person faced our direction, and started walking towards us. I took two steps back. Seth followed.

"Who...who is he?" Seth whispered near my ear. I lied when I shrugged no. The person didn't relent. He was walking briskly, obviously excited.

No.

"Jake?" Seth murmured. It knocked me out of my reverie. I took three steps back.

No.

The person didn't relent. He was less than thirty feet from us. I took another step back.

No.

Twenty feet. I felt Seth tense beside me. he started pulling me back. "Jake why are you...why are you cyring like that?" he said, worried, glancing at our company with trepidation. The person stopped at ten feet when I looked straight into his green eyes. I knew where it would go. That 'H' was an obvious clue. I knew it would return if I did so. I knew it would tear me apart. I knew it would be wrong to face him, not now, not ever when so much damaged was left unrepaired. Seth had tried so hard to pick up the pieces. It was steadily coming along. I could do it. But I had to see him. I needed his smile again.

"Jacob, you don't know how sorry I am." He wasn't smiling. He was crying, like I noticed what I was doing. He threw his arm up and jostled the owl, sending it soaring. I stared at him, his face. He hasn't changed a bit, and at the same time, everything about him was foreign and alien. He was taller. He also seemed to have meat in his bones this time. The scar was there, as well as the wind swept hair. He was _there,_ ever single piece of him, shredded but intact in my mind. All it had to take was for me to process that this was not a dream, even though I also wanted to show that I wasn't damaged. That he didn't damage me. That he was insignificant to me, that three years ago when we were eleven, he was nothing that would hurt when taken away.

But hell I couldn't fool myself. And I was crying. And rambling in my head.

I opened my mouth a fraction, then closed it immediately. Nothing could be said at the moment.

**A/N:** I'm a little rushed. I'll post another one in two days.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Sorry for making you wait!

**Reunion**

At the rendezvous point, I knew, I just _knew, _based on his quick reaction, the steps he took back, that I should have kept the connection. I instantly regretted that day when my letter came, that day I stepped on Hogwarts Express, that day that he was completely taken off my mind. I hate it. I couldn't help crying myself. He's changed _so_ much, and in three seconds of looking him over I knew it was for the worst. I couldn't have imagined what damaged I had done to him, what breavery and forceful will it took to get me out of his system.

But why? Why did he have to deny himself of forgetting I ever existed? Why did he have to root himself to me?

I'm not special. I'm not smart, humorous, athletic, good-looking, rich or influential. What was I to him?

"What am I to you?" I muttered. I couldn't bear placing my gaze anywhere near his face. But some force, maybe the fact that I haven't looked at him in so long, made me tilt my head up from his shoes. His eyes were closed, yet tears were streaming down his face. I knew what he was doing. He was recalling the sound of my voice.

No one spoke for a while. I think I broke him, more than anyone could repair. If that was the case, then I was surprised he's still alive. Knowing him, and how recklessly stupid he is, he must have attempted to take his life once or twice. I was glad he was okay, though, glad of that more than anything else in this world. The silence was broken when the boy clinging to his arm jolted up.

"A lot, apparently!" shouted the boy beside him, puffing his chest, "do you have any idea what mess you left, after--"

he was cut off when Jacob's hand raised abruptly to stop him. He obeyed.

"What you are..." Jacob started, as the tears seemed to have tripled in amount, "you--you don't have an idea how much...when you left...y-you..."

He was trying extra hard to articulate words, but the sobbing was getting in the way. It was simply tearing me limb from limb. In an instant, far before I processed, he had ran towards me and tackled me to the ground, soaking my shoulder with tears.

He missed me.

"You...you jerk! I fucking hate you! How...how c-could you do that..." he hiccuped. His hand was tight around me, his hand gripping the back of my shirt, while his body shook in front of me. I tried to push him away but his grip only got tighter. 'No', he cried.

He didn't miss me. No, that understatement was a million miles down the ground. He thought he lost me, that I wnt far away that I'm irretrievable. What he thought was that he'd never have me back.

"Jake--" I pushed.

"Don't! Just...shut up, will you...?" he sobbed, burying his face in my neck. He was on top of me and the quick rise and fall of his chest told me his breath was labored.

"Jake, don't worry, I won't leave. We need to...get some place private." I assured, rubbing his back. "And probably safe, too," I added. He nodded weakly, and I helped him stand up. I could feel his legs shake because he wouldn't let go of me. I wrapped my arms around him and took him in.

He smelled exactly as I remembered him, like springtime and honey. He was bulkier than me, yet we were of the same height. It was the same ol' russet Jake. I realized I missed him, too. I msised him a lot, like a man who had recovered from cigarettes trying a Marlboro for the first time in twenty years. I could hear and feel his haert thumping loudly beneath his broad chest, and somehow, in some way, the memories that flooded back made me whole, right. I felt him sneak a chuckle between his crying when I hugged him tightly back and ruffled his hair.

"Y-you're here... Crap, I thought I'd never get to see you again..." Jake mumbled at my soaked shoulder. I rubbed his back again and hugged tighter.

"I know, I'm sorry. You need to let me explain, please." I asked. There was no way I was gonna let an explanation pass, right after I've done this to him.

"I-i will," he stuttered, "And promise me this time you'll never leave me again, you stupid jerk..." he hit my back lightly.

"I won't, Jake I won't," I answered immediately, squeezing him again for reassurance.

The boy Jake was with fell to the ground and pointed to the sky.

"Oh my god! They're- they're flying!" he bellowed.

I looked to my left and there they were, three Death Eaters on broomsticks. Jacob pulled away and his eyes widened.

"A=are they on..." he started, but I cut him off when I took his hand and ran towards the cup the boy let go of.

"Broomsticks. I'll explain later, c'mon!" I yelled, as I grabbed the cup, "get his hand, quickly!"

Jacob didn't hesitate and took the boy's shaking hand. "Portus!" I yelled, and we were pulled.

The cold surface of the ice met our butts when we landed.

**A/N:** I hate when I write so shortly. In my defense, I suck at stories. R&R! And you must have notcied something weird by now. PLease tell me ^^.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Next installment!

Our friends, Seth's and mine, look towards our direction at once. Rachel stopped mid lutz and collided with clearly befuddled Leah. Bella looked over Paul's shoulder, who she seemed to be having a conversation with. Sam's and Emily's loving gaze turned to us in surprise. Embry and Quil were the closest, and they took to a halt when we landed in front of them. They took us in for a second, like a far-away explosion, before rushing towards us in mild panic.

Seth and H-harry were in a heap, Seth's hand entangled around Harry's neck while Harry's leg jutted between Seth's thighs. I would've laughed, but I was in post-reunion-tears-feeling-like-crap right now.

"What's going on here? Why are you on the ground? Who is he?" Rachel immediately barraged us with questions.

Harry separated himself from Seth and stood up quickly, pulling me along. He got close and muttered to my ear, "Somewhere private, Jake." His voice, lowered to a whisper, send chills, ones very different from the biting winter, down my spine. It amazed me how such a small, defenseless voice from three years ago could change into a firmer, more determined one. It was like Harry was a brand new, if not better person, and I would've felt proud that someone like him had grown out of such a vulnerable shell. His grre neyes focused on mine, and I nodded.

"We err, need to be somewhere," I explained vaguely, and pulled Harry towards the pick-up. We could drive out of here, but I'm sure Rachel will have a fit because we're underaged. And sure enough,

"Jacob! Where do you think you're going? And have you been crying? Answer me!" she demanded, a bit terrified herself. I escaped her grasp and said, "Nothing. I just need to sort this problem out."

I took Harry's hand and ran towards the truck. We didn't lose pace and was soon climbing in it. I put the keys in and revved th truck for traction, and then set off towards our house.

It was hard to break the silence, but I had to ask. "Will they be alright there?"

Harry thought for a moment before answering, " I reckon they'd be. The clearing was miles north from that lake, and I'm pretty sure they only have sights for me."

It was a bit annoying when Harry had started tapping the windshield with a finger, until at least when he finally sighed heavily and faced me. My gaze never left the road.

"Look, it's hard, alright? I haven't talked to you in ages and I know patching things up won't be that easy for you. I'm so incredibly dumb for picking this time to reconcile, but I knew I just had to, if I'm going to survive."

I shrugged bitterly. "Yeah well, if the case is that you need only to be in grave danger to remember going back, then I'll infer from that notion that I'm not very important to you. Stupid as it sound, _Harry,_ you were very important to me and it took me four months to go back to normal." There it was, the resentment.

It was silent for a while, and I spared a glance at his direction. His hands balled into fists and cluthed at his pants, and a few tears were escaping.

"I'm sorry...I was selfish. And you _were_ important to me, Jake! I just lost track of it all. Everything was overwhelming."

"What _everything_, _Harry_? You could have sent a letter, or maybe even a sticky note saying, _sorry, couldn't write to you, I'm almost always out of ink when I think about it. _And the worst part is, _Harry, _up until that point before I recieved that demented package, I was still thinking about you! For three years I was still thinking about you!" I cried, as the tears welled up again. It couldn't hurt to be vulnerable and truthful now.

Harry visibly winced when I yelled to him. It broke my heart that I could have that effect on him, and worse yet, that he could have that on me. I remembered that time, exactly a year after he left, when I confronted the Dursleys about Harry. I was sure up to that point that they killed Harry or something, and used the boarding school thing to cover it up. I even involved the authorities for that one, right until that deranged, old man with the long white beard came and explained everything to the police. I found it at that time so unfair, that Harry could get acepted to some boarding school but not me, but more importantly, that he could pick a stupid boarding school over me. At that time the sudden realization that I was practically nothing to Harry took me by such force that I went down so fast. It was then that I remembered Rachel and Rebecca worrying over my resigned and introvert personality.

And now here he was, ready to explain everything, hopefully, and ready to get things back. Sure, a year ago I wanted things back, badly, but right now, when somehow I've made myself stable, and not suicidal, with a little help from my friends and family, right now I'm not so sure.

"You've certainly changed," I said quietly, tonelessly. I was leaving the door ajar for him to open up. Or for me to let him in, really.

"_You_ got big," Harry retorted, "and your voice is so low."

"Speak for yourself. You don't sound so chipmunk-y as well."

I looked at him this time, really looked at him, his face flushing when he denied indignantly ever sounding rodent-like, and, based from his hopeful face, because I was too numb with confusion right now, I think I might've smiled.

Harry's back. After three years, he's back, and I hope never to lose him again.

A/N: Lame-o? R&R! You could even suggest a few things to add to the story.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Here it is! Thanks to me for cooking me a batch of bacon and eggs this morning! Yay me!

I pulled over and parked next to an eighties diner by the road, seeing as that was the best option for us right now.I jumped out of the truck with the keys in hand and ran over to Harry's side to help him out. He puffed out his chest.

"I'm fine, Jake. I'm not some girl you're treating out on a date," he joked. With that implanted in my mind, I began to get nervous. Here we are, entering a diner to talk after three years of non-contact. I found myself fumbling for words in my head. What was there to say? I don't know this guy anymore, and at the same time he was all too familiar to me. Hopefully his explanation will give light on his new persona.

We took a table by a window so that we're alerted if anyone we know comes. I absentmindedly turned the saltshaker in my hands, avoiding his gaze. God, why can't I do this? It's Harry! It's not like three years changed anything between us. Sure, he might've thrown our friendship to the dogs, along with some shreds of my sanity, but he's here, ready to take it all back, to be responsible. And I need to shape up and be ready myself, to accept him back and forgive him.

My eyes snapped towards his face when I felt his hands tug at the saltshaker. He took my hands then, and squeezed them. They were cold against mine.

"Jake, it'll be a little hard to explain stuff right now, so I'm giving you the advantage. I won't tell you anything." At this, I blanched, and took my hand away.

"No, no. You've got it all wrong," he grabbed my hands again and rubbed them for reassurance, "I won't tell you anything, but I'll answer any question you throw at me," he smiled a really beautiful smile, one I sure as hell didn't expect from him. It brought me back to those days when his smile won't reach full capacity, since everyday the Dursleys rode him like a pack mule. This one was open, honest, like those three years took him to a different flightpath. A less turbulent, fresh-breath-of-air kind of flightpath.

"On one condition, though."

I frowned, then scowered his features for anything that changed. Nothing. He was still smiling.

"I get a question, too."

I grinned, nodding, and squeezed his hand back. His green eyes, once a dead sea green, shone like a forest from a bird's eye view after the sun had brightened it. It took me off guard.

"May I take your order?" a dull, monotonous voice came beside us. I shook my head out of the trance and glanced at where the voice came. Apparently a frilly-haired waitress, looking like she had five children and an abusive husband, blowing smoke from her cigar right at us, was standing there, tapping her foot as she waited. It quite easily ruined our moment.

And I didn't even notice until now that we had a moment.

"Are you gonna order or not?" she slurred impatiently.

"Alright, alright! Umm, get us the lunch special, two orders," I said. She scribbled into her notepad and then thundered off. I looked back at Harry, who was biting back laughter. I glared noncommitally. I sighed and took his hands again.

"You make sure to be honest all right? Whatever you say, I'd take it," I said firmly, making sure he got that I meant it. He slowly nodded, mentally deliberating something.

"Okay." I placed a hand on my chin and skimmed through the countless questions that built up when he was gone. I took a deep breath, and asked the first question that I kept in mind a year after he left.

"Where did you go?"

Harry's facechanged into confusion, and then to grim realization.

"Oh... You mean when I left..."

"That's exactly what I mean, Harry."

"I..." he mumbled. "It's a boarding school in Scotland. It's awfully amazing and so overwhelming compared to Surrey. We...do stuff quite diferenly there, too." Even though he answered my question, I could tell that he was avoiding a soft topic. That would be my next question. He looked like he was torturing himself, like he wants to tell me, but somehow couldn't, given the vague question. But for now, I'll let him ask his.

"You can ask now," I said solemnly. I could be patient for him. Me being calm about it unnerved him even more.

He took his shaky breath and asked. "Can you--_could_ you describe how you were when I, umm, left?"

I stared at him. I really, _really _didn't like breaching this topic. Moreover, I'm not sure if I could. What I was saying is, how could someone narrate how they were when they lost someone dear to them? Isn't it something only a person who had years to accept it could do? Given that Harry had come back, I think I can, though.

"It started a year after, when you promised, or at least I think you promised, I can't remember that long, when you promised you'd return. I...it tore through me, you know? When you weren't there that week. I didn't really bother. With anything. I recall always being in bed, tossing and turning. I'd go down for meals, and I'd remember Rachel urging me to go out and get some sun. I didn't. I didn't feel like doing anything." Harry was intent on looking a the table, his hands gripping mine.

"I'm sorry if this is making you feel guilty, but I really, _really_ missed you back then." I got up from my side of the table and sat next to his seat. He looked straight into my eyes, his gree nones pooling with tears. I took him and hugged him, soothing him. It was just like when we were kids. At times he got so overworked or abused that he'd come to me telling he wants to give up. And I'd be there, always, soothing him and giving him strength. I missed that too, that familiar sense of security I gave him, the tenderness I treated him, and the way he gave himself completely to me. It wasn't a rare moment back then, when he always looked so vulnerable, like falling leaf could break him. Now, when he looked too different for me to distinguish, and we had three years to forget each other, despite all that, those eyes, those open, crying eyes, brought all sense of doubt and unfamiliarity out the window.

"I'm sorry," he said, and I forgave him.

A loud clank of dishes jolted both of us. "Here's the lunch special," the grimy waitress said, and then sluggishly went back to the counter.

"Poufy teens," she muttered.

**A/N: **ARRRRRRR & ARRRRRR!


	8. Chapter 8

HEY! Umm, I'd like to apologize for not posting in so long, it's just that school comes first, and I was balancing that with varsity training and violin lessons. My Twilight high died down when everyone's Twilight high died down, apparently, and I was a bit bored with how this story was going. (Such a dreadfully slow pace). DON'T fret though, because I'm going to be reposting this in a new account with a newer, more fastpaced story. Just hang on! That account by the way is the name eirithebeaR. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

The new edited/revised/revamped My Awesome.... Werewolf's first chapter is now posted on EiriTheBear's (my other account) site, entitled 'Scratches and Scars'. Don't worry, more will come along, I promise. just review and stay true, and hope you like it!


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